Cocoon
by spyder-m
Summary: There was something pleasant about waking up with someone else; a familiar comfort that had long faded in the recesses of her heart. Makoto had almost forgotten, with the loss of her father and her sister's commitment to her work, what it was like to share the morning with another person. Written for Day 2 of Shumako Week, 2020: Dreaming / Sleepover.


Cocoon

For as long as she could remember, Makoto had lived her life by meticulous routine. She planned everything out carefully; from the time she left for school in the morning, to her student council duties.

It was habit that came as a valuable asset when she first joined the Phantom Thieves, providing a more structured approach to their palace infiltrations.

Being health conscious, Makoto understood the importance of regular, uninterrupted sleep to one's mental and physical wellbeing, and would ensure that she went to bed and woke up at precisely the same time each day.

Students who stayed up late were prone to daydreaming, or even falling asleep during lectures. Makoto couldn't afford such a risk. To keep up to date with her notes and maintain her spot at the top of the class, she needed to give school one percent of her concentration.

It was unusual then, that on this particular morning, she awoke not to her alarm but the soft patter of rain against the windowsill.

The sound was not one she had paid especially close attention to before.

Normally, it served as nothing more than a reminder; to bring an umbrella with her, to organise space in the gym for the sports clubs who would be unable to practice outside. Yet, in this moment, the steady trickle soothed Makoto, waking a tingling in the base of her spin.

Still, the sound was enough ground her in reality, to bring her back to her morning ritual. The need to get up and greet the day anew.

Though, despite waking up at the usual time, Makoto couldn't shake the fatigue covering her. Her eyes felt especially heavy.

It was strange. She couldn't recall having had any difficulty falling asleep. In fact, her bed felt especially warm and comfortable this morning. Makoto was struck by the temptation to stay in it; her mind still foggy from the sleep clinging to her consciousness, trying to pull her back under.

For what reason could she feel so exhausted?

Against the wishes of her tired body, her eyes lifted drowsily, bulging as they traced the unfamiliar ceiling set above her.

This was not the sleek interior of Sae's apartment, but somewhere different entirely.

Confused, Makoto's nose wrinkled as she glanced around the room, recognition settling in at the cobwebs collecting in the corners, the worn couch and work desk. The dust covering surfaces that never seemed to lift; in contrast to Ren's claims that he had someone helping him out with cleaning.

Despite its clutter, it always felt homely and lived in. There were traces of people's presence littered throughout. A small trash-can overflowing with food wrappers and packages; courtesy, usually of Yusuke or Futaba; the rims of cups outlined by coffee staining the table in several places, a game controller slung lazily over the couch.

It was somewhere she'd managed to feel welcome and at peace; a sentiment that, unfortunately, wasn't always shared by her own home.

Makoto's chain of thoughts was broken by a low exhale and a hand resting against her abdomen.

Memories came rushing back to Makoto in a swell of warmth. A yelp stifled between her lips, from her periphery, she caught sight of unmistakeable, shaggy black hair.

The rain had taken them by surprise the night before; study session. The heavy downpour continuing up until the last train was due to arrive for the evening. Ren had asked her to stay over, not wanting her to risk catching a cold on her way home.

Despite not wanting to intrude, Ren said it was big deal and he'd had Yusuke spend the night before. He was even kind enough to offer up the bed, and sleep on the couch.

Not wanting to deprive him, it had she who suggested shyly that they share.

Though, it seemed they had not devoted much time to trying to sleep. She could recall distinctly each softly uttered word they exchanged underneath the cover of darkness, the feather light caress of his skin jolting through her like a torrent of Zio.

Even when Ren eventually drifted off to sleep, rest alluded Makoto. Her focus was instead drawn to his proximity, the soothing pattern of breaths carrying from his body, the heat that he emanated and sheer intimacy of the act they were engaged in. He had lent her a baggy shirt to sleep in, one large enough to stretch down to her thighs. His scent permeated from the material, engulfing her.

Even at his most peaceful state, when he was in no way intending, Ren distracted her.

His face was relaxed as he slept, innocent and completely at peace. Lost in a world without shadows or corrupt adults, without threats looming upon their horizon.

She indulged in closely studying his face; the self-consciousness she might have felt at their proximity, at staring so openly, absent. Makoto relished in the details she had missed; shrouded by his glasses, the mask he normally wore. The subtle blemishes of his skin, the shape of his noise. It was cute.

In the past, Makoto had never understood the appeal of sleeping in.

Relaxation and recreation were, of course, important parts of maintaining one's health. But lying still with her own thoughts for prolonged periods made her feel antsy. She would rather get up and spend her free time reading or watching a movie; something that could help stimulate her mind.

That was before she had felt this solid warmth at her back, cocooning her in a tangle of limbs and blankets. Ren's arms stayed circled around her waist even as he rested, his chin tucked between her neck and shoulder. Makoto was struck, vividly, by the memory of those soft, pink lips tracing her skin.

There was something pleasant about waking up with someone else; a familiar comfort that had long faded in the recesses of her heart. Makoto had almost forgotten, with the loss of her father and her sister's commitment to her work, what it was like to share the morning with another person.

She didn't stir until hours later, with the faintest touch against her lips. The lingering aroma of coffee clinging to Ren's breath.

"Morning," he murmured softly as she stirred. "Did you sleep well?"


End file.
